


Ability Testing

by Nuwandalz



Series: Abuse of Abilities [1]
Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:57:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuwandalz/pseuds/Nuwandalz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've got this new toy I've been wanting to try out."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ability Testing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Naughty or Nice Meme prompt: "Peter/Sylar, NAUGHTY: my new toy". I've added a bit more and changed a few things from my original anon response. 
> 
> Beta'd by rtwofan (any other mistakes are all mine).

Peter notices that something feels out of place the moment he walks into his apartment, door swinging slowly back to thump lightly against the wall. He looks around, trying to pinpoint a clue to explain the uneasy feeling crawling up his spine. Figuring it best to simply stay cautious, Peter closes his door and walks towards his bedroom, tossing his bag and jacket towards the bed.

The moment he hears a strange sound amongst the silence, Peter swings around, fist out hoping to deck the intruder. His knuckles burn, scratched slightly by the impact of connecting with Sylar’s jaw. Sylar stands there, smirking and Peter takes an involuntary step back.

"Now Peter, is that any way to treat a guest?" He bares his teeth, smirk turning into a wide grin and Peter tenses, ready for a fight.

"I don't remember inviting you," Peter grits out, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"No, I took the liberty of inviting myself over," Sylar tells him, stalking forward slowly. "I've got this new _toy_ I've been wanting to try out."

Sylar flicks a hand out, aiming telekinesis at Peter and throws him back towards the front door, body sliding painfully across the floor. Peter bites back a groan, struggling to raise himself on his elbows and at least thankful that the last ability he took was Claire's.

Peter feels a weight slammed across his shoulders, forcing them to be pressed into the floor. Sylar moves over to him, leering and Peter realizes that his legs are still unpinned and he kicks up forcefully, catching Sylar in the face. 

Sylar drops to his knees at the impact, neck snapping back with the force. The way Sylar takes damage always makes him seem like a lightweight, but Peter can now feel his entire body gripped in telekinesis and knows that isn’t the case.

"Now, now, I came all this way to show you my new ability Peter," Sylar tells him, words sounding thick. He crawls over Peter's body, pushes himself to face Peter. Peter can see the split in Sylar's lip already beginning to heal, the blood remaining.

Sylar watches him, eyes never moving from Peter's and taking in every detail. The intense gaze makes Peter's skin crawl but a betraying feeling of warmth curling through his gut makes him gasp softly.

Sylar leans down and licks at Peter's lips slowly, dirty and wet. Sylar keeps his eyes open, still observing everything (too much), but Peter has to close his own to make the image go away.

The darkness behind closed lids only offers a small reprieve; the lack of sight only adds to intensify everything else. He feels Sylar's tongue drag across his cheek, down to the line of his jaw and further, resting on his throat. The wet trail makes him twitch internally, creating an urge to raise fingers up and wipe it away but at the same time a part of him burns at being marked like this.

The telekinetic hold on him hasn't eased up at all despite Peter's constant attempt to get some control back. Warm fingers that don't feel half as rough as he’d been expecting stroke up underneath his shirt, the material catching on the slide of skin. The contact makes Peter’s skin break out into goosebumps, an internal shiver shaking him. Peter suddenly feels hot and cold all at once and he groans, squeezes his eyes shut tighter.  
The wandering hands move up to rest on his chest, thumbs rubbing small circles over his nipples. The touches are slow; each second passing with the weight of his heartbeat beating against his chest and Peter has no doubt Sylar can feel it.

A feeling like pins and needles curls out from his stomach and spreads over his body, climbing to his throat and stroking down his thighs. Peter feels his breath catching, his lungs burning for air while his body tries to arch up for more, still restrained by Sylar’s ability.

Sylar's tongue is still pressed against his pulse, his nose nuzzling at the hinge of Peter's jaw. Peter starts to doubt his sanity when each minute press of Sylar against him seems to make his body thrum with energy  
When Sylar uses his other hand to softly pet at Peter's stomach, intense pleasure stabs through him, making his entire body feel on fire.  
"It's a pretty useless ability," Sylar says after a moment, shifting to speak into Peter's ear. "Best to use it for entertainment purposes."  
Sylar nips at Peter's ear lightly.  
"Or torture."

Peter feels the hold on his body lift, but instead of lunging up to attack the man like he’d previously planned, he presses himself closer to Sylar, the fire in his veins having stripped him of the ability to move away. Everything around him, the floor beneath his back, Sylar pressed to his front, his fingers clutching at material – all of it is adding to his arousal, every slide of skin against something shoots pleasure through him, making him moan. The press of Sylar's skin on his own body makes the area light up, electrical strikes of "oh _god_ " crackling through his nerves. His eyes fall open without his consent and Peter sees Sylar still watching him, smirking.

Peter swears he can suddenly feel everything, the grooves in Sylar's fingerprints, the fibers in the fabric of his jeans. Everything in his brain is being interpreted as intense pleasure and he's so hard it _hurts_. He feels unnaturally grounded to his body, his pulse beating a rhythm through his muscles echoing a chorus of _want_ and _please_ that’s pounding in his head, making him arch and move into Sylar.

Doing nothing is causing him to feel restless, his need urging him to move to have _more_. Peter moves a hand to his pants, intending to free his dick but his movement is slow, like moving through liquid. His limbs are so heavy and he feels so drugged on pleasure his hand barely makes it to his stomach, his arm flopping against his middle, crushing Sylar's still wandering hands under his shirt. The sudden added pressure makes lights go off in Peter's brain and he is dimly aware that he's crying out and begging. His hands spasm, reaching for something he can’t _see_ because his vision has become focused on Sylar’s skin, on the beads of sweat. The images beat into him, crashing into the stimuli his other senses are shooting into him like the smell of Sylar pressed so close to him.

He can't even handle what Sylar has already done to him, simple _touches_ and he’s already moaning out words he can’t hear. When Sylar moves his own hands down to Peter's pants and starts unzipping them, every slight movement feels as if it's against his cock. Each shift of fabric, each connection of Sylar’s skin on his own is almost as if Sylar’s in him already – touching Peter inside.

Peter only has enough sense to realize his pants are around his knees and Sylar's hands are gripping his ass cheeks roughly before Sylar's mouth on his dick has his brain evacuate completely.  
He arches so suddenly that the following telekinetic push to his chest is harsh, making his head crack against the floor beneath.   
Peter forgets where he is, who he is and what's going on for one brief moment before everything is crashing down around him, his orgasm tearing from him so badly Peter stops breathing.  
The sensation of being _alive_ is so painfully arousing Peter feels like he might die right there on his apartment floor, breath stuttering in his lungs and Sylar mouthing come off his skin.

He doesn’t seem to be sucking in any air and Sylar slaps him across the cheek lightly, the contact buzzing through his body pleasurably, making him let out a pained moan.  
Sylar takes that as hint enough and moves away from Peter, shifting so that he’s hardly straddling him. The moment Sylar moves away completely, the pleasure leaves with him like a switch turning off, a painful ache waking up in Peter’s chest at the loss. Peter has enough sense to recognize it as a touch-based ability and is mildly glad to realize its effectiveness is limited.  
He feels bone deep exhausted, cold and suddenly overwhelmingly _lacking_ with the ability not working through him, but he can finally breathe and think again. Sylar stands, stretching lightly and grinning down at Peter, pleased. Peter just watches back, feeling his heart settle in his chest and his panting slow to deep lazy breaths, unable to move without fear of passing out in exhaustion. 

After a moment Peter realizes his eyes are closed and he hurries to open them, waking up to find time has passed and Sylar is long gone. He wakes himself fully and struggles to his feet, back and neck screaming in protest after sleeping on the floor. When he shifts, Peter can still feel traces of come and a general grime feeling coating his belly and thighs. He groans to himself and heads to the bathroom, figuring a shower and a sleep in his bed would prolong him having to work out what the _fuck_ just happened.  
He's just passing the kitchen table when he realizes he's managed to take on Sylar's 'new toy' for himself, his fingertips feeling hot and tingly. Peter promises himself he will hold onto this new ability, at least until he can return Sylar for the favor.


End file.
